Sweet tooth

 

Now Eleanor, you simply must have a pinch of this sugar in your tea. You see, it’s very special.

You remember that sub I had – Charles? I used to call him pissbreath. He was an investment banker – and he was as stinking rich as his pissy breath, too.  Anyway, I had this medical student staying with me one summer – lovely girl from the Caribbean – and for some reason she got interested in his ancestry, and guess what? It turns out his family used to own several of her relatives as slaves!  Mmm!  Back in the eighteenth century. Had them shipped over to Barbados for the sugar plantations, you know.  Basis of Charles’s family fortune although you won’t read about that in Who’s Who!

Well, of course as soon as I found out about it, I said that she simply must take him home with her in chains. I mean, I didn't mind - no shortage of devoted subs wanting to worship at our feet, is there?  So I'm afraid I rather insisted - I mean, it's only right, isn't it?  She was a little reluctant at first (and you know, I suppose it is understandable to be a bit funny about slavery with a family history like that, isn't it?  But it’s not really the same, after all) but she soon came round and we faked his death, collected all his lovely cash and shipped him off in irons.

Her family still work a sugar plantation, although apparently it’s all modern now. Anyway, they set up this little corner just like it was when his ancestors used to run it and they make him work all day on a chain in the hot sun. He absolutely hates every second of it, she tells me - nearly managed to escape once!  Goodness only knows what he'd have told the authorities  - I wonder if they'd have been sympathetic?  Fortunately they got him back and they hobbled him by cutting half his foot off. Oh - and they branded him too. Several times, I understand, with their own family initials. Such fun!

Of course, even with all the whipping, he doesn’t make much sugar on his own.  But they sent me this little packet as a thank-you all the same – wasn’t that lovely?  Honestly, I was a little cross at first - I mean, I'd only just managed to get myself strictly onto the sweeteners.  They never really taste the same, though, do they? Anyway, I decided as long as I go out on my morning ride each day, it won't do any harm to treat myself to a quarter-spoonful in my Darjeeling, when I get back.  

That reminds me, actually, I’m pretty sure your Nigel’s people were out East, weren't they? Now, it wasn't tea, was it... they were something in Malaya, weren’t they?  Rubber tappers or whatever the word was. Maybe that’s why he’s so obsessed with wearing the stuff.  Do you fancy looking them up on the Google thing? I’m sure Pippa's friend Zaheera would love to have a crack at a pair of colonialist buttocks with a good old fashioned malacca cane. She’s frightfully progressive!